


rattle that lock (lose those chains)

by a_b028



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Character Study, Crack, Infidelity, Kissing, M/M, Multi, mentions of shitty parents, seriously this is a whole mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_b028/pseuds/a_b028
Summary: jaskier's not-so-beloved husband hires a witcher, and it goes as well as one would expect
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 220





	rattle that lock (lose those chains)

**Author's Note:**

> hello my sweet readers:) 
> 
> this was in my wips since february, and to be honest i completely forgot about this until today. i just stumbled upon it and decided that i may as well finish it. then boom. 4k of words later we are here. 
> 
> i tried to beta it, but my eyes are barely open so if there are any mistakes please let me know!!
> 
> tittle borrowed from David Gilmour's song 'Rattle That Lock'
> 
> enjoy:)

Jaskier first hears of a _Witcher_ being summoned to their house from his own husband. Said husband had his filthy mouth full of pork and vegetables, spiting and laughing as he casually mentioned, “I am thinking about hiring a Witcher, my dear.”

Where usually whatever his spouse says goes from one ear to another, this time Jaskier’s interest picks up at his words, “Witcher?”

“Yes,” Dawid says and gulps down the rest of his ale, “Witchers are creatures–“

Jaskier puts down his cutlery, “I know who are they and what they do,” he continues, irritated, “But why?”

His husband pours himself another cup, “There is a problem with water in the city,” he explains, “It is being constantly polluted by some unknown creature.”

“What creature?” Jaskier interjects, “How come I know nothing about it?”

Dawid eyes him, “If you were more invested in city politics instead of that stupid lute of yours then you would know,” he looks like he wants to say more, but upon seeing Jaskier’s expression he stops whatever rant he had in mind, “Like I said, local well is being polluted and it is a job for a Witcher.”

“ _How come_?”

“Soldiers sent on patrol noticed a creature – I don’t even know if it has a name – dark, very big, lots of teeth and definitely unhuman. ”

Jaskier nods, disappointed at the lack of information, “Do you have one?”

Dawid shakes his head, “Not yet, but we are working on it.”

“He will most likely decline,” he muses, putting a cake for himself on a small plate, “I heard they don’t mingle much in courts.”

His husband steals a piece of his cake, “For the amount of coin I’m giving for this job I’m convinced some stray will find a way to get rid of it.”

***

Finally, his husband tells him that a witcher will be coming to the town, a few days after the first mention – and not a normal one. Well, as _normal_ as witchers can be, this one has white, long hair and two swords and Jaskier is quaking in his well-made leather boots at the information because he knows _which_ witcher is it and he intends to use his knowledge well.

***

He is boiling under an unhealthy amount of clothing, because his culture demands him to be hidden for whatever fake sense of propriety or something akin to that. It was explained to him when he was younger, but it’s not like Jaskier ever paid attention to such bullshit.

They are waiting for the man of the day to arrive – and said man is late by almost thirty minutes and Jaskier thinks if he has to wait another ten in this heat and anticipation he will _die_.

“If he doesn’t show up by four we are heading back,” Dawid says roughly. Jaskier can already feel how angry the elder is – furious even. Dawid does not like to wait.

***

Dawid does not like to wait, and the Witcher does not show up.

***

It’s late in the evening when the man finally shows up.

They are in the middle of their awful supper – Jaskier’s husband always insists that they should share at least one meal together – and Dawid has been antsy and angry whole day. The lateness of the guest just a cherry on top.

Their servants bring the Witcher in and Jaskier’s mouth instantly waters. The man is of an average height, his well-fucking-built body hidden under some leather (which sits _really_ snugly on him), with a strong face adorned by an attractive grimace and long, white hair. Even the fact that he’s covered in some nasty guts can’t shake off how _hot_ he is.

Both Jaskier and Dawid blink up at the intruder, and when elder finally shakes off his shock he puts on his business smile and begins, “Welcome to our house, Witcher.”

The white-haired man (Jaskier refuses to call him by his given time because he wants the man to introduce himself) nods and clears his throat, “I heard there’s a monster to kill.”

“Yes,” Dawid says, “But why don’t you help yourself first? There’s a fresh bread and–“

The other cuts him off, “I’d rather do my job now, thank you.”

“Nonsense,” Jaskier pipes in and also brings out his best smile, “A warm meal can’t hurt and it’s better to discuss the details of the deal with a full stomach.”

Witcher narrows his eyes at him and Jaskier shudders. Those are very pretty eyes – and he haven’t even seen them up close. “Who are you?”

“Tis’ my husband – Julian.”

Jaskier gives him a glare and extends his hand to greet their guest properly, “I can speak for myself, why thank you. And it’s a pleasure to meet you–?”

_Say it say it say it say it say it say it–_

“Geralt.” The other finishes, “Geralt of Rivia.”

Dawid makes an amused expression – and Jaskier knows damn well he is about to say something really _fucking_ dumb, “Butcher of Blaviken?”

Jaskier scowls and warns, “ _Husband_.”

“Ah, pardon my manners, Geralt of Rivia,” Dawid says and gives him a sheepish expression, “Come, sit and enjoy the food.”

They both settle back to their seats – Jaskier at his husband right and Geralt of Rivia on his left. They don’t talk at first, mostly because the food is warm and good and as they say, _the dog doesn’t bark while it eats because their bowl goes away_ (or something like that, Jaskier doesn’t really remember that one).

Jaskier mostly stares at the guest – _and can you blame him?_ This is a man who travelled the whole world, probably. Who killed countless amounts of monsters (not necessarily creatures, human monsters too), who seen things one couldn’t even dream of. And he’s hot.

And after Jaskier stares enough, he moves his gaze to his husband – who is bland and boring and average in looks (in everything, really) and the only adventure he allows himself to have are _hunts_. Hunts, and that godsawful feasts their either have to go to or throw in their own estate.

It takes them maybe fifteen minutes to finish their meal, and that’s when his husband has to explain the business to Geralt of Rivia.

That’s also when Jaskier is being pardoned (he tries to fight on this one, but Dawid gives him a very nasty stink eye and he just grits his teeth and says his goodbyes) to their chambers.

***

Jaskier is prepped on the pillows as he watches Dawid pace the room – his husband is all puffed out, flushed both from anger and alcohol, as he bitches aloud, _“Who does he think he is?”_

“He is Geralt of Rivia, a very famous Witcher along the continent,” Jaskier says, “Even _I_ know that – you could’ve educated yourself on that when you hired him.”

“Do shut up,” Dawid says as he sits on the edge of the bed, his back to Jaskier, “Godsdamn Witcher, Butcher of Blaviken, telling me how I should–“

Jaskier stops him before he could get further, “He’s a _Witcher_ , husband. He knows how to kill monsters better than you – that’s his damn job,” He continues, “And do stop with that Butcher of Blaviken, wasn’t it like fifty years ago?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dawid shrugs, “But that doesn’t erase what he did.”

He crosses his arms on his chest, “Yes, but maybe don’t call him that to his face – I’m pretty sure he doesn’t appreciate that.”

“I don’t give a single, flying fuck if he doesn’t appreciate that – his pay will be enough appreciation,” Dawid grumbles, “Damn Witcher, showing up late like that,” he lets out another set of pretty words before finally starting to undress and prepare himself for bed.

Jaskier lets out a heavy breath, “So, have you decided on something?”

“Nothing besides him accepting the deal and promising to take care of the monster tomorrow morning,” Dawid grunts as he bends in search for something, “And lo, have you seen my slippers?”

***

It’s very early in the morning – the very next day – when Jaskier wakes up even before Dawid, bathes and dresses and quickly struts to the Witcher’s room.

That’s not the best idea he ever had, but Jaskier suspects that with a man like Geralt of Rivia one has to be very stern and specific. So he goes there, and asks servants around if the man is still sleeping. They all say that they have no idea and that the Witcher wanted to be left alone all night.

Useless bastards.

Jaskier straightens his silk shirt and takes a deep breath. He knocks on the door but gets no answer, so he allows himself in.

“Good–“ he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before there’s a knife flying into his direction and he makes a little surprised noise (not a shriek, absolutely not a shriek) before his gaze moves to a very angry, very naked Witcher sitting in the bed, “Morning?”

He takes out the knife that stuck in the wooden frame of the door – good to know that either Geralt of Rivia is a very bad knife thrower or he wasn’t aiming for Jaskier’s head (he genuinely thinks it’s the latter). Jaskier hums and smiles, “I take you had a good night sleep?”

A very nice, very raspy voice of the Witcher answers, “I told the maid that no one is pardoned to enter here.”

“Well, she didn’t tell me that – you can pick her out from the crowd so I can have a word with her,” Jaskier says, not even meaning his words. He suspects Geralt also doesn’t think he would stick to his promise, “I was worried, my husband wasn’t exactly welcoming yesterday.”

Geralt gives him and annoyed expression and _ye-ah_ , Jaskier knows how it looks like but he doesn’t care.

“I’ve had it worse.”

Jaskier nods, “Well, I’m sure you had – but honestly I don’t understand why, you don’t seem like a bad person – maybe a little rough but not bad.”

“And how old are you?”

“Well, twenty.”

He can see that Geralt squints at him and lowers his head, “Then wait until you are a little older.”

Jaskier gasps because well – he heard _that one_ way too many times now, “Almost twenty one is a very reasonable age. People at this age already have, I don’t know, roughly three kids and a farm.”

“You are very ignorant, then.”

Another gasp, “No, I’m not – and you won’t be another person who tries to talk this into me.”

Geralt just shrugs and leans against the headboard, “So, why are you here exactly?”

“To tell you that breakfast is ready and that I have a few questions for you – I hope you don’t mind answering them.”

“I mind.”

Jaskier smiles, “Well, I don’t care,” he says, “I will have servants bring you some fresh clothes, see you at the table.”

He tries very _very_ hard not to look at Geralt’s body or face. Tries – and succeeds.

***

Jaskier vibrates with excitement as he butters his bread and drinks his tea – Dawid already fucked off to somewhere, sure that the Witcher already got all the details he needed –and waits for Geralt of Rivia to show up.

He prepared a short list of questions – what to ask to get the proper information so he can use the knowledge in his arts. Jaskier already knows a lot of academics, mostly because his parents insisted on him getting some education before marrying him off as they did.

He doesn’t even notice when he accidently scratches his finger with the butter knife.

Jaskier left the list in his room – to use it would be an embarrassment – but not before memorizing all the creatures, demons or ghosts alike.

He sits and waits. Waits, waits, _waits_.

***

“You _have to_ have some serious problems with memory – or you don’t know how to read the clock,” is the first thing that comes out of Jaskier’s mouth when he sees Geralt of Rivia tending to his horse in the stables.

Witcher doesn’t spare him a glance and continues, “I just wanted to ask some questions – for the pay my husband gives you, you surely can waste thirty minutes on me.”

“Do you even know how much it is?”

He scoffs, “Apparently enough for you to stay in a court estate,” Jaskier says and that shuts Geralt up, “You are going to the well now?”

The elder nods – and Jaskier finally takes a good look at him. He looks as hot as before, if not hotter since he bathed, “I suspect there’s more than one.”

“One of what?”

“Wyvern,” he replies, “The creature your spouse described sounds like a wyvern with a few younglings.”

He hums, “So, a nasty kill?”

“Not necessarily.”

“How come?”

Geralt gives him an unamused expression, “I don’t have time for that, you for sure have your books – look into them.”

Jaskier shrugs, “Their descriptions are boring and unhelpful – and why should I waste my time on them when I can ask you. The wyvern waited for so long, it can wait another ten minutes.”

The elder man looks ready to throttle him, but gives in, “Have you ever seen a snake?”

“Obviously.”

“Imagine a snake–but ten times bigger, and it has limbs and wings.”

Jaskier hums and tries to imagine the creature in the way the Witcher explained it, but it’s not working. “I can’t see it in my mind–and believe me, I have a great imagination.”

“It’s not my problem,” Geralt answers and with practised ease checks the bindings that hold his silver swords.

Then, the Witcher takes his horse’s reins and leads it out of the stables–completely ignoring Jaskier while doing so. He is not done being a pain in the ass, so he struts after them, “What exactly wyverns do? Except polluting water, of course.”

Geralt sighs, still focused on his horse, “They hunt their prey while flying–be it a sheep, a horse or a man,” he opens one of the bags that are tied to the saddle and fishes a funny-looking potion out of it, “They also have a venomous tail, one drop could easily kill a strong, grown-up man like yourself.”

Jaskier preens under Geralt’s words – even if the man doesn’t mean them in the way Jaskier imagines he does, “What else?”

“Their venom is very valuable to druids and mages,” he says, “They nest close to water, they are very protective when it comes to their young and they have a very long lifespan–so if there’s no witcher or no man brave enough to kill them they just do what they want for centuries.”

After that Geralt moves to sit in the saddle, “Is your knowledge of wyverns satisfied?”

He shakes his head, “Of course not,” Jaskier observes as Geralt gives his horse an encouraging pat and it begins to walk. It’s very swift, the way the Witcher moves, practised and sure. “You must tell me all about it when you finish!”

***

In late afternoon he gets the word that the Witcher returned from his hunt with empty hands–meaning he either left the corpse to rot (highly unlikely) or that he was unsuccessful.

Dawid didn’t want Jaskier at their supper, so the younger man had to take it in his rooms, completely alone and also, bitter. Does his husband think that his ears are too soft to listen about swords and fights?

He seen his husband naked, he seen his husband’s face when he comes–and there’s not a single view that is more terrifying or disgusting.

So, Jaskier pettily eats in his room and sends Dawid a message that he will not be coming to their shared bedroom today. Fuck his husband. He also gives one servant girl an extra coin to inform him when the Witcher will be back in his room – for a good measure, of course.

***

Adela – the servant girl, as he later learns – comes to his room shortly before midnight. Jaskier grins and grabs two bottles of a very good ale, then heads to Geralt’s room.

He hums a melody he’s been trying to compose on his way there, not bothering with the weird stares he got from the servants–they long since stopped caring about what Jaskier does.

He stands in front of the door and knocks reluctantly, not sure if he is welcome – well, he definitely isn’t _welcome_ but there for sure has to be a difference between being just unwelcome or being a loathed sort of company.

Once again, there are _no come in’s,_ but it’s Jaskier’s fucking house so he can do whatever he wants. He steps inside and automatically ducks, in case Geralt of Rivia wants to repeat his performance from the morning. No knives come, so he walks in further.

Geralt is settled on the bed, his armour long since lost, busy with what Jaskier deems is sharpening his swords. The Witcher doesn’t even stir from his work.

“Hullo,” Jaskier says, “Missed me much? I wasn’t present at the supper, and you didn’t come to tell me all about the wyverns,” Said Witcher is definitely not in a festive mood so Jaskier brings up the bottles and clinks them together, “I came with bounties?”

He looks up, then, and sighs, “Do you not understand basic human behaviour such as ignoring people that you dislike?”

Jaskier hums, then says without giving his words a second thought, “You are no human – well,” he hastily closes his mouth, “Well, that was a very wrong phrasing of me and I do apologize – but you are not human in the biological sense of the word? While still being more _human_ than most humans I do know, including my parents, so–“

Geralt gives him a very annoyed eye-roll but Jaskier ignores it – he never been the one to know where to stop, when it came to talking. “Have a drink with me and tell me about wyverns?”

It takes some more apologizing and some more convincing, but Geralt finally bends and agrees to his plan. Jaskier thinks it’s only because he wants the younger man out of his hair, but you don’t look into given horse’s mouth, do you?

***

“And what happens if you annoy it?” Jaskier asks, well into his nth glass of ale. He knows his cheeks are flushed and that his talk is slurred, but decides not to care. He has more important tasks such as pestering Geralt of Rivia about monsters, “How does it kill you?”

“She hunts, like a predator such as bear,” Geralt explains, definitely less flushed and less drunk – a fact that annoys Jaskier to no end, “But with much more vigour.”

“And your encounter with her–?”

Geralt sighs and takes a sip from his crystal glass, “Was a messy one.”

“And that’s that?” He sputters, “No paragraphs about her ugliness, or the sharpness of her claws, or her ugly teeth or–anything?”

“None at all.”

Jaskier definitely do not whine at the words because it’s been that way the whole time they talked – him, trying to note and pick something interesting from what little information Geralt gives him, and Geralt purposely dodging any questions that require an answer longer than five words.

“And what about that wyvern, today?” Jaskiers asks again, “Did it hide?”

“Not really.” Geralt answers, “But the younglings were older than I suspected, so by myself I wouldn’t be able to kill them all. Not with the preparation I had.”

He hums and moves to sit a little closer to the elder man, “Can I come with you?”

Witcher snorts under his breath, “Is this a joke?”

“No.”

“I will think of it as a joke.”

Jaskier does not laugh or snort. Well – logically he knows that he stands no chance against any kind of monster, and that he would definitely not go anywhere near them. But for now, the ale in him is speaking, “But why not? I would just observe.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Geralt mutters, “An experienced witcher is bond to have problems with this many wyverns, ballast is not welcome.”

“You call me _ballast_?” Jaskier says with just right amount of anger in his voice. He knows Geralt doesn’t mean it that way, but it stirs some deep-hidden memories he would rather forget, “I was not planning on going, but now I think I will. Just to spite you.”

“Spite me?” The Witcher asks, amused, “Why would you do that?”

Jaskier thinks about what to say – probably for the first time this lovely night, “To prove.”

“Prove what?”

“That I can.”

Geralt looks at him with a weird glint in his eye, and Jaskier suddenly wants to kiss this man for just the way he looks. A whole god-turned-human, “Why?”

“Because I’ve been told that I can’t, so I will show you that I can.”

“That’s a very stupid reason.”

Jaskier smiles and slides a finger around the hem of his glass, “No, it’s not stupid.”

“It is,” Geralt argues, “You want to risk your life just to prove me that you can face and survive an encounter with a wyvern.”

“Who said that I want to prove it to you?” Jaskier asks, and suddenly Geralt face and body is very close to his and he just can feel all the heat that radiates from the elder man, “Well, _maybe_ a little. But mostly to myself. That you all are going to tell me that I can’t or that I will fail, but I know myself enough to know I will not.”

Geralt doesn’t have an answer for that, so Jaskier inches even a bit closer and mutters, “Did anyone tell you that you are a very fine specimen?” He snorts at his own words, “A very fine specimen, indeed. Can I kiss you?”

The elder man looks ready to fly away from the room as he replies, “No.”

Jaskier pouts, and once again, that’s just the ale doing it for him. Not the want to kiss Geralt, though, he had it even when he was sober, “Why not? I’m very kissable.”

“You are drunk, twenty, and I’m over hundred years old.”

He gives Geralt the most unamused stare he can muster, “So?” he pushes his luck, “You didn’t say I’m not kissable, though.”

Geralt throws him out. They do not kiss.

***

Jaskier, naturally (and surprisingly, despite the massive headache), follows Geralt into the place where the wyverns reside. Sneaking out from his house was easy enough, those stupid girls and even more stupid boys took his plea for an unchaperoned walk the same way the fish takes a bait. So he went to the stables and took one of his favourite horses, Herman, a fine chestnut stallion that’s a bit agile.

He doesn’t even bother to hide, because he knows that witchers have heightened senses and Geralt is probably able to smell his perfumes from over a mile from the castle. And at first, he is not able to find either the man or the wyverns so he just struts around on his horse, admiring the scenery.

He is still unable to find said witcher, but the wyverns sure do find him.

***

Jaskier lets out a loud scream when a big wyvern lands close to him and immediately takes off his horse muttering a quiet apology to the animal – because well, _sorry Herman, better you than me._

The wyvern doesn’t give in, sadly, and shrieks after him even when he hid in the bushes. It’s kind of smaller than he imagined, so he guesses either his imagination is hyperbolic or it is a youngling – both options may be true. Jaskier doesn’t have the time to think about it. He runs.

He runs and runs and runs when finally, _finally_ they reach a spot that Jaskier recognizes. It’s a part of the forest where the branches of the trees are especially tricky and thick. Easy to slide past them as a human, as a huge flying reptile not so much. Jaskier can’t fight for his life, but he is good with tricks.

The wyvern sure does get stuck, and he grins at it. Stuck, angry and hissing – and when he really thinks about it, that monster looks a bit like his mother. Maybe it’s a little prettier and less angry.

Jaskier turns to his backpack and fishes for his notebook, pen and a medium-sized silver knife. He got the last thing from his husband as a wedding gift, made with the finest silver and adorned with little rubies. Jaskier has no idea where to aim it, but it’s still better to have any weapon close to his body if the wyvern ever got away.

Highly unlikely, with the way it’s stuck right now. But better not to push the buttons.

He hides away in bushes – a respectable distance from the wyvern, but still close enough to observe and describe it. And Jaskier sure does get a good description of it.

First, he colorizes the plain stuff that Geralt gave him – increases its size, gives it more scales and teeth. He also changes the colour from plain dark green to rich red, ignoring the nagging voice in his head that it will look more like a dragon and less than a wyvern. It’s not like Jaskier knows if there are wyverns in different colours. On the last touch he describes the wings as more defined and adorned.

On the paper, it looks pretty.

***

Geralt finds him roughly an hour later, with him and the wyvern still being in the same place. First, he takes Jaskier by the back of his neck and shouts profanities about his stupidity. Then, the Witcher proceeds to kill the monster with his own silver blades.

Jaskier observes as Geralt carefully removes the important and valuable parts of the wyvern and hides them. He asks his questions, and this time Geralt only ignores half of them.

Herman hasn’t been found, so Jaskier assumes the horse was just too spooked and ran away and doesn’t mention that to Geralt. Let the man think he came here on his own feet.

The elder must be really impressed with what Jaskier just did because he even allows him to sit on his horse – as Jaskier later founds out, a beautiful mare named Roach – and when they are slowly moving back towards the house, Geralt asks.

“What did you want to prove?”

Jaskier looks to the side and observes the ever-moving horizon, “I told you what.”

“That you did,” Geralt says, “But I didn’t understand a single word.”

He sighs and rearranges himself, “All my life I’ve been told what I can and cannot do. Starting with clothing and ending at the choice of spouse – or in my case, lack thereof. My husband is terribly bland and annoying, as you probably noticed,” he continues, “But well, not only that. They also always told me about the lines I should not cross – _don’t try with singing, don’t bother with learning that language, don’t go to check how a wyvern looks like_.

So I decided that I’m going to cross all the lines you lot settle for myself as if I do not have my own mind to think about it.”

“Even if it’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier answers, “Don’t have much to lose, do I?”

Geralt doesn’t say anything, and the rest of the road is filled with Jaskier’s questions about wyverns. 

***

When they get back, Dawid eats his ear away with his nagging so Jaskier behaves like the child he is in the eyes of his husband and closes the door of his bedroom with a shout that consisted of, “Look, mister lumberjack, the destroyer of all fun and happiness in the world.”

Not one of his proudest moments, but to quote himself from the previous evening – fuck his husband.

***

This time with empty hands, but he still knocks on the door to Geralt’s bedroom. It’s said male last night at their manor, so he may as well give the guest a proper goodbye.

Nobody is there to answer to his knocking, so he once again allows himself inside and finds Geralt out of his armour – this time settled by the window, and not on the bed.

“Good evening,” Jaskier starts, “This time I come here with no material olive branch, so you will have to settle for my amazing company.”

Geralt snorts, “You were allowed to leave your room after your little escapade?”

Jaskier makes a hurt noise, “You dare to mock me Geralt?”

The elder male lifts an elegant eyebrow, “That I do.”

“Well, that’s terribly rude of you,” Jaskier continues the little charade, “Since I fatigued myself, I may as well try to persuade you to continue our discussion from yesterday.”

“Which one?”

Jaskier clears his throat and steps a little closer. Geralt remains unmoved, but the younger male can see the glint in his pretty eyes, “The one about kissing. This time I’m of clear mind – clear as the crystal.”

“But you are still twenty and I am still over hundred.”

“What does it even matter? You look younger than my husband,” Jaskier realizes his mistake after the sentence leaves his mouth, he swears at the look of disapproval that settled on Geralt’s face “And I already told you I do not care for him, nor he cares about me. So, no feelings lost and no angry spouses to chase you out.”

The elder man sighs, “It is still wrong–“

“Just one kiss,” Jaskier says, “Please?”

He makes the best puppy eyes that he can, and Geralt finally moves to step closer to Jaskier. He immediately feels the warmth that radiates from the elder, the confidence and sureness that surround his person. Geralt takes a delicate hold of his chin and Jaskier grins when he says, “Just one kiss.”

Jaskier nods and slowly closes the distance between them. Geralt’s lips are soft, his whole manner of kissing gentle and slow. Jaskier moves hands and places them on Witcher’s ribs, fingers slightly fluttering – it’s a nice rhythm, but Jaskier is a very greedy man.

He deepens the kiss and drowns in the way Geralt’s hands move away from his chin down to his neck, then shoulders and finally back to his ass. Geralt has nice, big hands and Jaskier loves the feeling of them, loves the feeling of this man against him.

They do not part for a long time.

***

Later, they lie together in the bed – Jaskier on his side, close to Geralt, and Geralt on his back. Jaskier thinks of what he wants to say, thinks and thinks and thinks and then settles on a simple:

“Take me with you.”

Geralt doesn’t even open his eyes when he replies, “No.”

Jaskier sags a little into himself. He expected this much, but hearing this aloud still hurts, “Why? I’m good company, I can make money out of my music and I’m not as helpless as you think I am.”

This time the elder opens his eyes and moves to look directly at Jaskier, “Your place is here, with your husband. And the path of a witcher is much harder than you think.”

“I can adapt.”

Geralt snorts, “Adapt? You lived your whole life out there, in warm palaces. There’s no other place for you in this world.”

“Did you listen to a word that I said?” Jaskier starts carefully, because really, this man’s skull is thicker than stone, “ _I can adapt._ I can make money, I can be a good company – _I can._ And I want. I want to go out there with you, even if you decide to leave me alone sometime later, so please do not make me beg for it.”

“No.”

“Geralt–“ he sits up, “I loathe this life. I loathe this place, this fucking place that feels like a golden cage, with my terribly bland husband and awful mother as the guard dogs. It’s not fit for a person like me.”

The Witcher turns away from him, “Then why didn’t you leave on your own?”

 _Take a wild guess_ , Jaskier wants to snap, but it is not a good time for his pettiness, “Because there are things that even _I_ am scared of, and that includes leaving all I ever knew and going to face the world all by myself. It’s better with someone, I guess.”

“Jaskier–“

It’s not a yes, but it’s also not a no. It’s a start.

***

**Author's Note:**

> i hope it's not that messy, i just wanted to try out jaskier's pov and i hope it worked out
> 
> thanks for reading, comments and kudos give me life!! <3


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